The Long Flight Home
by Sandylee007
Summary: When Clint Barton closed his eyes he was a rookie S.H.I.E.L.D agent with a ridiculously patient Phil Coulson for a handler. When he opens his eyes again he's in his forties, an Avenger and a family-man. How will he cope with the reality that he's forgotten the best parts of his life? Will he ever regain the lost memories? CLAURA, A TEAM AND FAMILY FIC
1. Stolen Years

A/N: This… chapter basically typed itself. Because this story REALLY wanted to come out. So, here we are! (grins) FIRST, though…

DISCLAIMER: I own ABSOLUTELY NOTHING but a bunch of DVDs. If only I had the kind of money to hire Renner…! (sighs) Also, praises and kudos to the genius who behind the story's profile-picture.

WARNINGS: Some language (sorry, Steve, but this is… young Clint we're dealing with…!), adult themes, CLAURA, general weirdness… OI, stop stomping each other on your way out, it's rude!

THIS STORY IDEA was first introduced in my 'SOS Hawkeye' collection's tale 'Clint Barton's Ghost Story' BUT this story works perfectly and makes sense even if you haven't read that.

Awkay, before I turn into a chicken… Let's go! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

 ** _The Long Flight Home_**

* * *

Stolen Years

* * *

Clint Barton had always been very, very good at getting himself into a trouble. And judging by the hammering headache that greeted him as he began to wake up, it seemed like he'd succeeded in finding trouble yet again. He fought a war to focus properly.

He remembered heading to a mission, Phil Coulson's voice a steady and grounding constant in his ear. Only… he reached his destination too late. The five hostages he was supposed to rescue lay dead on the floor. He'd checked four of them to find no hope when there was what sounded like an explosion. And everything transformed to pure agony.

"Wah…?" He wasn't aware that the barely audible sound erupted from him. His pounding head was buzzing, seeking, struggling to grasp…

The place around him didn't smell like a hospital. And the bed he lay in was far too comfortable to be from one of those hateful places. He also definitely wasn't in one of S.H.I.E.L.D's medical rooms. So where was he? Did get captured? That chilling thought was quickly proven wrong when he tugged lightly and discovered that his wrists hadn't been restrained.

How about that, maybe he got lucky for once.

He wasn't going to make the mistake of relaxing, though. Not when he could tell that he wasn't alone. With a ridiculous amount of effort he wrestled his eyes halfway open. Everything was a little blurry but at least he could distinguish something. Needing to figure things out, he moved his head as much as he dared to.

The room was fancy, full of the best medical supplies that seemed to come from a sci-fi movie or the future. And indeed, there were people sleeping close to his bed. Two redhaired women, the younger curled up so that her head lay next to his stomach and the older facing the door, as though keeping watch. A man sleeping with a frown on his face looked so much like Captain America, Coulson's number one hero, that it was ridiculous. Finally his gaze landed on a brunette in a nurse's uniform. She slept the closest to him, her head resting on his chest and one hand holding his tightly. Which instantly registered to him as bizarre. Why would…?

Movement in the corner of his eye caught all his attention. It took longer than it should've before he recognized one of the country's most famous and richest people. The man's grin seemed far more honest than those from pictures and interviews. "Hey, Feathers. Did you have a good nap?"

Clint felt his eyebrows furrow while his heartrate sped up. Tony wasn't exactly known to be the 'at arm's length' type of a guy. But why was the man approaching him like they knew each other? They'd never even met. And what was Tony Stark doing there, anyway?

The billionaire's grin faded. For some ridiculous reason it made him feel guilty. "Clint?"

"What…?" He wanted to sit. Needed to sit. He didn't feel comfortable with appearing vulnerable in front of strangers. As soon as he moved a violent quake of pain passed by all of him, harsh enough to make him halt. "What… are you doing here? You… working with S.H.I.E.L.D, now?" A reasonable enough assumption. Someone with Tony's wallet would've been a great ally for the organization. Surely even Fury had come to realize as much.

Tony, however, seemed to be close to panicking properly. What was wrong? "Barton, what are you talking about?"

Clint rubbed his face roughly with one hand, aching to make the puzzle pieces click together. He absolutely hated feeling so out of control, and he despised not knowing what was going on even more. "'s right, Tony Stark does charity work… This is charity work…" That had to be it. Fury could have a real silver tongue when the situation called for it. But how badly did he get injured to need Stark's help? That thought was far too terrifying to be examined more closely, at least before his head was clearer. Instead he nodded towards the rest of the people. What were they doing in the room? He didn't want strangers around him, especially when he was at his most vulnerable. "These people… They work for you?" The nurse probably did, at least.

Tony seemed unable to produce a single word. Clint decided that he couldn't handle the bizarre situation any longer. With nearly desperate yanks he began to try and unfasten himself from all the machinery. "… gotta get the hell out of here …" His head hurt, badly, as did pretty much all of him. And the whole situation demanded him to leave, as quickly as he could. In pain, confused, scared, overwhelmed and frustrated, he glanced towards the billionaire. "Thanks, for… whatever you did for me… But… Coulson… Phil Coulson… They told you that he's my handler, right? Call him. Tell him that I've gotta go." He needed someone around who felt familiar, as quickly as possible. He needed to _leave_.

With all the inner turmoil he hadn't noticed that the others were waking up, too. Until the hand still holding his tightened, and he felt someone watching him. Suddenly hyper aware of the fact that he was touched by a stranger and far from comfortable with it, he pulled his hand free and turned his head.

What he encountered was the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen. Although he'd never seen it before it was so familiar that… "Hey, honey. Welcome back."

 _What…?!_

"Clint?"

The brand-new voice caused him to notice that he was the center of very much unwanted attention. Everyone in the room was staring at him with varying degrees of shock, grief and something close to betrayal. They looked like someone had just struck them hard, and he didn't have to be a mind-reader to know how badly they were expecting him to recognize them. How much they needed him to prove them that this was all just a silly little passing thing, that everything would be okay.

The weight of their expectations and panic, along with his own rapidly snowballing sheer terror, was too much. And suddenly he couldn't utter a sound. Couldn't even breathe.

Finally someone decided to blow a whistle on the nightmarish situation. A voice he definitely hadn't heard before spoke out sharply. "I know that you've all missed him, but right now you're causing him a great deal of agitation. I need you to step outside until he and you all have calmed down a little."

The gang didn't seem to have any intention of obeying. Tony swallowed loudly. Were the man's eyes moist, or was it a trick caused by light? "He, ah… He has no idea who we are. Any of us."

The arrival, a beautiful woman in her late thirties with clearly visible Asian heritage, nodded slowly. Somehow the calm look in her eyes helped him feel more grounded, made it easier to breathe. "Alright. Now, would you please give us a few moments?" She went on at the practically palpable hesitation. "I'll take a good care of him, I promise."

The strangers obeyed, despite it seeming to be far harder than it should've been. The woman who'd been holding his hand was the last to go. The expression on her unhealthily pale face suggested that someone had just torn her heart from her chest. Guilt formed a hard and heavy ball of iron in the pit of his stomach, and if there was any oxygen in his lungs he would've howled out that he was sorry. Even if he had no clue why, exactly, he felt so sorry.

Staring at the door which closed sharply after the group he wanted to scream. Run away. Most of all, though, he wanted someone to explain what happened to him, and what the hell was going on.

"Clint." The doctor's voice managed to catch his attention, barely. "I'm Dr. Ranya Winter. We've never met before with you awake. But I understood that you also don't remember the people who just left?"

Clint was in no condition to shake his head or nod. He gritted his teeth painfully tightly. "Get me…" His words were nothing but a wheeze. He gulped laboriously. "… the hell out of here."

Dr. Winter sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, but I can't do that just yet. I need you to calm down, so we can try to figure out a few things. Alright?" Satisfied with whatever she saw in his, without a doubt, hostile gaze, the doctor went on. "You… were injured badly, and you've been in a coma for a few months." She searched his eyes. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Clint didn't want to talk about memories. Or anything. Frustration and still lingering fear seemed to wrap a rope around his neck. He nodded jerkily towards the door, trying to shake off the feeling. "That guy… He looked just like Captain America. Coulson's gonna freak when he gets here." He wanted to focus on things that he knew. On things that didn't make his aching skull feel like it was about to explode.

Dr. Winter didn't smile. "That _was_ Captain America." Which didn't make any sense at all to him. She seemed to notice as much and frowned. "Coulson? Did you… mean Phil Coulson?" He _hated_ it when people looked at him like the doctor was watching him just then. It made him feel like he was a circus freak again. "Clint… What year do you think it is?"

Somehow that felt like the most dangerous question of all. One that froze absolutely all of Clint, including his thoughts. One he had no intention of answering, and made as much evident with a cold, hard glare.

The doctor, however, wasn't the type who gave in easily. She did her best to offer a small, reassuring smile. "Okay, let's try again. How old do you imagine you are?"

He didn't think he'd ever been quite this scared in his life, and loathed the thought of being so vulnerable in front of this woman, in a place he didn't know. If he'd clench his fists any tighter nails would probably cut through skin. What was it with all these questions? "I… don't know how long I was out. But… I'll turn twenty-one next January."

Dr. Winter sighed, visibly bracing herself. "Clint… You're… a little older than that." She gave him a few moments, which was nowhere near enough time to brace oneself against a bomb going off. "It's February 2016."

Clint's line of vision began to tunnel and spin dangerously, and he felt like the whole world was shaking and crumbling around him.

Whatever it was that happened to him, cost him over twenty years of his life, over half of his whole goddamned life.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Oh boy… Poor Clint – poor everyone! This is gonna be a bit of a nightmare. (winces)

SOOOOO… Would you guys like to read more? Or is this story DOA? PLEASE, do let me know! Hearing from you ALWAYS makes my day.

In any case, THANK YOU, so much, for reading! Who knows. Maybe I'll see you around later?

Take care!


	2. Secrets and Lies

A/N: Phew! Technically, this chapter's content should've made TWO chapters. But I just didn't have the heart to break it in two, so… Here we are. Just don't expect every chapter to be this big… (chuckles)

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for the ABSOLUTELY AMAZING reception the start of this story received! All those reviews and listings… (BEAMS, and HUGS) I'll do my best to make this tale worthy of your expectations!

Awkay, because I know what you came here for… LET'S GO! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

Secrets and Lies

* * *

Laura's head spun while she sat with her face buried to both hands and struggled to keep breathing somewhat normally. The past few months had been some of the longest in her life. Clint in a coma… Bracing herself for possibly losing her husband, for weeks and weeks… It was emotionally draining. And now this.

After everything they'd been through… After everything they'd overcome and sacrificed to be together… Her husband and the father of her children had no idea who she was.

All the memories they'd made together… Would they always be just hers, now? Their kids… How would they cope with a dad who didn't even recognize them?

Laura knew that she needed to think. Had to focus. Stay strong. But her head was full of the way Clint pulled his hand away from hers, of how he looked at her when she called him 'honey'. Suspicious. Scared. Threatening. Lost.

She felt lost, too. Horribly so. Which was probably why she found herself calling a person who was supposed to support her, no matter what.

Laura began to suspect, even in her current state of mind, that she made a mistake as soon as the one she called picked up. " _How much longer are you going to waste on him? The children need you._ "

Well… It wasn't like she felt horrible enough already… Laura gritted her teeth and tried to swallow down the stab of pain. "Clint, ah… woke up and…" She couldn't hold back the tears filling her eyes. "Mom, he doesn't remember me and the kids."

She wanted and needed support. Advice. Gentle words of wisdom. Instead she got a sigh of relief. " _That's the best thing that's happened to you since you met that man._ "

For exactly five seconds Laura froze from shock and agony. Then, without strength and will for anything else, she hung up. And finally burst into honest sobs of utter heartbreak.

* * *

Steve stood behind the plexiglass separating him from Clint's room and observed the still unwell man. At first the archer struggled and hissed, kept asking for Coulson and Fury. Then medication and fatigue began to take their toll. At the moment Clint lay on his back with his eyes squeezed shut, a bit too tense to be resting soundly but still and quiet. Steve kept watch despite knowing full well that skilled medical professionals were looking after his friend. Because no matter how much it all hurt, he couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

It took such a long time before Clint began to trust the team as more than just mere comrades. Especially him. At first it hurt Steve, because he automatically assumed that he'd done something wrong. Until one night, due to fever and a concussion, the archer's steel-hard armor began to crack.

* * *

/ _"You remind me of him." Clint glared at a wall with such eyes that made anyone tempted to wonder what revolting things he saw. "Coulson", the man clarified before Steve got the chance to ask. "You're…" The Hawk gritted his teeth. "You're exactly like he always thought you'd be. Sometimes that makes it really fucking hard to look at you."_

 _Steve had no idea what to say to that. Were there any right words? "Language", he settled for._

 _Stupid, really. But it had the desired impact. Clint's posture relaxed, just a little bit, and a thin grin appeared to the man's face. Soon afterwards the injured former assassin fell asleep._

 _Come morning light, they were both their usual selves. But something had obviously changed, although the Captain couldn't figure out what. Because since then Clint trusted Steve to have his back outside the field as well._ /

* * *

This was a hundred steps backwards. After all the hard work, all the trust earned… Steve was once more a total stranger. A ghost reminding of someone important who wasn't there.

If only he was a better leader, if …

The sound of approaching steps snatched him from those desolately, unhelpful thoughts. He turned his head to meet Dr. Winter's exhausted face. "I'm sorry, but I had to sedate him to keep him from harming himself. This… was a lot to take in."

"I want to talk to him", Tony joined in, startling them both.

Dr. Winter inhaled heavily. "I'm sorry, but right now he needs rest and some time to adjust. I think you all do." She let her gaze linger on all the tense, anxious faces gathered around her. When did the whole team appear? "If he's up to it you can see him tomorrow, a couple of you at a time so he doesn't get overwhelmed. And if you agitate him I'll ask you to leave. We need to do this at his pace, no matter how frustrating it may be. Are we on the same page?"

The reluctant, tense nods she received would've seemed more proper on a group of five-year-olds.

"Good. I'm glad we have that sorted. Now go and take a break. Rest. I'm not interested in getting any more patients. Something tells me that the one I already have is a handful enough."

They already knew that none of them was going to get any sleep.

* * *

Clint lay perfectly still, trembling under a blanket and feeling ridiculously cold. He'd been told to rest and relax, with words and drugs. But how was he supposed to do that, when the last time he closed his eyes he lost half of his life?

This life he woke up to, these people around him… He couldn't recognize them, at all. He was desperate for something or someone he knew.

Where was Phil? Usually his handler was the first thing he saw upon waking up after getting into a trouble. Scolding him, threatening to bench him permanently. A solid, comforting constant. Did Coulson get sick of waiting for him? Did the whole S.H.I.E.L.D simply forget that he existed? Was that why no one would tell him a thing, no matter how many times he asked? It made sense to him that Phil got tired of him, just like everyone else always had.

In an instant he scolded himself over such sentimentality and weakness. Shouldn't he have known better than to get attached by now? Just… Phil was supposed to be different.

* * *

/ _"Nice try, Barton." Phil sounded wearier than his young charge felt. "But I can tell that you're awake."_

 _"Am not."_

 _Phil scoffed. Sounding amused and irritated all at once. "If you were five, that'd be really cute."_

 _Dropping the act, Clint opened one eye – the one that hadn't swollen closed – and peered towards his handler over his shoulder. He wondered if the man realized how much effort it required to trust enough to turn his back. "'are you doing here, anyway?" Didn't Coulson have anything more important than babysitting him to do? It was Friday, of all days._

 _Phil shrugged, writing something on the file the man had been flipping through. "Keeping you company, since you're too stubborn to sleep. And avoiding Fury."_

 _Clint snorted. His eyelid was getting uncomfortably heavy. "'could find 'u here", he slurred._

 _"Yeah. But he won't." Phil had the nerve to smirk. "He knows how infuriating of a patient you are. He'll stay away until you've annoyed the nursing staff into discharging you."_

 _Clint pouted and wrinkled his nose, which was barely enough to stifle a yawn. He hated being drugged up. "'wanna go home."_

 _"I know, kid." Phil's tone was shockingly soft and comforting. Something he definitely wasn't used to. Their eyes met. "But we'll have to stay just a little bit longer."_

 _Clint didn't know what made him trust so much. Perhaps it was the medication messing with him. But without him even noticing his eye slipped closed and he drifted off. Although he would've never, under any amount of torture, admitted as much out loud, he felt safer than ever before in his life. He wasn't alone in the world anymore._ /

* * *

Clint had no idea that the tiny, barely audible whimper came from him. Slowly and with tremendous effort he curled up the best as his stiff and sore muscles allowed. Then closed his eyes although he didn't want to. And wondered if he'd ever feel safe again.

* * *

There were very few people Wanda had been able to trust. Almost all of them had been stolen from her. But Clint… She'd been hoping that he might be different. That she finally ran out of bad luck.

Apparently not.

She didn't know how long she'd been glaring at a sandwich with no actual intention of touching it. Upon sensing a presence she didn't turn her head. Moments later Vision sat beside her and, sensing what she needed, took her hand. She squeezed back gratefully.

No words were needed as they sat there, bracing themselves for a storm.

* * *

Clint had disturbing, vivid dreams. Which was a sure sign that he'd been drugged or heavily medicated. Some of those dreams were such he couldn't even begin to understand.

He dreamt of fighting against robots.

Of aliens.

Of some absolutely horrific power taking over him, body and soul.

Of blue eyes looking back at him from a mirror.

Of horrific, unimaginable pain that took over him every single time he attempted to fight the dark, cold force embracing him. Suffocating him. Was it killing him? Had to be. Nothing but death could possibly feel like that.

Clint screamed, with absolutely everything there was in him.

" _…t!_ " Where did that voice come from? Was it a part of the dream, too? " _Clint, you're dreaming._ " She was right, whoever she was. He fought instinctively to reach out for her. The thought of a stranger beside him when he was this vulnerable didn't sit well with him. But, if he was honest with himself… He kind of liked her voice. "Hey. Are you back with me?"

His eyes opened with effort to discover the nurse who was there when he first woke up. The warmth and expectation he saw in her eyes then were still there. Guilt knotted sharply around his stomach, because whatever it was that she wanted from him… He just couldn't give it to her. Not knowing why it mattered so much to him threatened to drive him insane.

"Clint?" Her eyes searched his, and it was impossible to shake off the feeling that he'd seen them before. "Are you awake?"

"Not sure", he rasped. "'u look like a dream." It was a stupid, pathetic joke. But she was too serious. He wanted to see her smile, even without knowing exactly why. In the nightmare his life had become she felt like a tiny beacon of light and serenity. Which should've terrified him but it didn't.

Nothing made sense anymore, but he figured that it was what losing twenty-something years did to a person.

She didn't smile, though. Instead something vaguely like pain flashed on her face. Did he… hurt her somehow? "Get some more sleep", she murmured. "For once in your life, stop pushing yourself and accept that you need some time."

Clint didn't want to fall asleep. Not yet. Not when he didn't have any answers. But keeping his eyes open was so much effort…! His eyebrows furrowed from strain, frustration and exhaustion. "…are you?" How did she know him? Why did it feel like she'd handled one of his bad nights many times before?

She shuddered. Even the smile she barely managed afterwards didn't quite diminish the immediate reaction. "Just Laura." She took a breath. "Now close your eyes."

He really, honestly didn't want to. Because the woman who introduced herself as 'just Laura' raised a million questions in just a few minutes. But his body didn't leave him with a lot of choice. He drifted off to a world of more disturbing dreams. She wasn't in any of them. Which was a shame, because at the moment she was the only thing he wanted to dream about.

* * *

The next time Clint was fully coherent a different woman was keeping him company. She was the older one of the redheads who'd been in his room the very first time he woke up in this strange future. At the moment she was watching him with eyes that reminded him of a wary wild animal.

He'd seen her before, hadn't he? Somewhere, briefly, that face came up. What was her name…?

"You just slept for fifteen hours. I guess you really needed the rest", she announced, cutting his trail of thought. Her face wouldn't betray a hint of emotion, but something in her eyes… "How's the pain level?"

Clint shrugged. The immense aching in his back and head he could handle. It was the level of _weird_ and _uncomfortable_ he was having a hard time with.

She snorted. "Nice try, Barton. You're frowning and shivering." She got up, and stretched. Which was when he noticed that she was armed. "I'll go and tell Dr. Winter…"

The flash of a memory, assuming that it was one, slashed sharper than a knife.

* * *

/ _Sipping coffee, Clint – barely recovered from the mission he wrapped up a few bruises richer on his twentieth birthday – looked down at a new file on Phil's desk. His eyes locked on the picture of a very young, very beautiful red-haired woman. Instantly more curious than he should've been, he arched an eyebrow. "New mission?"_

 _"Not yet. Her name's just come up a few times, so Fury and I are keeping our eyes open. But if she ever poses a more active threat she may become a mission." Phil also looked towards the file. "She's Natalia Romanova, or Black Widow. Assassin. Most of her suspected… assignments have taken place in Europe. But recently there was a suspicious death in Wisconsin that may be her doing."_

 _"Oh."_

 _Coulson snorted. "Yeah, you're looking at her like that now. Just remember that we don't know yet exactly how many people she's killed."_ /

* * *

She seemed older now, more mature, but he'd always been good with faces.

Clint felt his heartrate pick up while pieces slid together in his aching skull. She was an assassin, armed and dangerous. In his room.

When her hand moved he did what any trained agent would. He reached out as quickly as he could and grabbed her wrist with all the strength he found, effectively keeping her from reaching out for the concealed weapon. Of course he knew that he was in no condition to actually challenge her. But he'd give it his best shot.

Natalia looked at him, alarm barely visible in her eyes. "Barton? What are you doing?"

His eyes narrowed while he braced himself for a battle he'd definitely lose. "'u here on a mission?" he hissed. Was he her newest target? Did S.H.I.E.L.D finally go after her, making her strike back against the weakest link?

Hurt made its way to her face, even if it disappeared quickly. "No, I'm not." How was he supposed to believe her? "Clint, I… don't know what you remember about me. But I won't harm you. We're friends."

He couldn't believe her. No matter how much a part of him wanted to. He felt infuriatingly exposed with his memory problem and current feeble condition. And all too aware of the fact that he had no weaponry to protect himself with.

"Barton, let go of her! You're hurting her!" Tony Stark's sudden, tense voice made him shiver. The billionaire approached with caution, both hands visible placatingly. "She's not an enemy."

"She's an assassin", Clint pointed out through his teeth. This was all making him dizzy. "'u know that?" Did she have Tony fooled? Or was the man involved in this somehow? Why didn't she just kill him while he was still asleep? What was going on?

"Yeah, she was. But she isn't anymore", Tony reasoned, his tone like that of a hostage negotiator. "She, ah… She's been your friend for a long time. And I'm sorry you can't remember any of that."

He didn't. Had no idea how or why he'd supposedly befriended a woman from S.H.I.E.L.D's watch-list. He couldn't understand why she wouldn't defend herself if what Tony said was true. Until he met her eyes.

She looked like a trapped wild animal. Hurt, betrayed. Her eyes reminded him so much of himself that slowly yet surely his fingers loosened, letting her go.

Wasn't he an assassin once, too? If he was worthy of a second chance… Then maybe so was she.

"Nat…", Tony tried, but she'd already left the room.

And Clint felt so guilty that he was sick to his stomach, although he once again had no idea why.

* * *

All of Tony's instincts told him to run after Natasha. Because he could only imagine what was going through her head at the moment. But self-preservation prevented the instinctive action. Company was the last thing she wanted at the moment, and unlike most people she meant it. And wouldn't hesitate to express her displeasure. Besides, it seemed that he had far more urgent matters to sort out.

Clint struggled with visible effort against panicking. The billionaire would've given a lot to find a few genuinely comforting words. In the end the archer spoke first, not meeting his gaze. "An assassin… Captain America… You… How…?" The Hawk squinted his eyes and shook his head. "How did we all even meet?"

Tony wondered how much information his friend would be able to handle. He proceeded with uncharacteristic caution. "We've been working together for a while, now. We're… a team. The Avengers."

Clint scoffed, which wheezed from how close to hyperventilating the man still was. "Seriously? Sounds 'ke… something from a comic-book."

Tony smirked, letting himself be comforted by the flicker of normalcy for a few treacherous seconds. "I know, right?" He then sobered, watching how his friend still fought a war to keep everything together. "Look… I know that this is all… well, a _mess_. A big one. But… You'll get your memories back. You're too stubborn not to."

Finally Clint looked at him. Clearly searching for any possible sign of dishonesty. "What if I don't?"

Honestly, Tony preferred not imagining that possibility. Because trying to get used to this new, somewhat hostile version of his friend… He had no clue how to pull it off. And the guy had a wife and kids, for crying out loud! What about _them_? "Well…" He shrugged, which came out far more tensely than he would've liked. "Then we'll make a bunch of new memories." It sounded deceitfully simple.

Clint looked away once more and it was impossible to tell if the man believed him. After a long, hard consideration the archer finally murmured barely audibly. "I've… never been good at making friends. It's good to see that I learned."

"Nah. It's not that", Tony argued. "You just found the right people." He should know.

Clint smiled in a manner he'd never seen before and gave him a sideways glance. As though to check if he was serious or messing with the Hawk. The silence between them was almost comfortable as they listened to the rain outside and tried to get used to the changed world around them.

* * *

Natasha was glad that she didn't run into anyone. Because she had no idea how she might've reacted. She walked, as quickly as she could, until she was finally in the room that was once given to her use. There she punched the wall with all her might, twice. She wasn't quite able to look away from the barely visibly yet glaring marks Clint's hold had left on her wrist.

It was so different and so similar to the previous time they met for the first time that it gave her chills.

* * *

/ _It wasn't the first time she was absolutely certain that she was going to die. She gasped while her heart thumped violently. Blood trickled from her split lip and pain caused small explosions in various places of her body. Her opponent didn't seem to be faring much better, which wasn't a surprise with how they just clashed. The difference between them was that he stood on a solid rooftop and she dangled in empty air, only bleeding fingers keeping her from plummeting down. Rain only made things worse, made her grasp slip even worse than the blood. She wouldn't be able to hold on for long._

 _Lightning struck, illuminating the last person she'd probably ever see. He had a grim expression on his face while he pointed an arrow at her, the sudden light caressing the weapon and his S.H.I.E.L.D uniform. It was his mission to end her. In less than a minute he'd be successful. And she wasn't going to beg for her pathetic, miserable life._

 _All of a sudden, surprising them both, he put the weapon away. Instead he knelt and held out a hand. "Grab it."_

 _She snorted from disbelief. It sounded too much like a whimper. "What… if I just… kill you… when I'm back up?" she managed._

 _His eyes flashed with a new bolt of lightning. And something else._ " _I'm not going to let you fall and die, so grab my goddamned hand and hold on!"_

 _It was the first time in her life she didn't feel all alone in the world. So she did what every little bit of her training told her not to. She obeyed, and held on._

 _Natalia Romanova fell down with the rain, and Natasha Romanoff took her place._ /

* * *

She punched the wall once more. It felt better than it should've. Then, with not exactly steady hands, she grabbed her phone and dialed. She took a deep breath while waiting, and practically growled out as soon as the one she called picked up. Frustration sharpened her tone. "Barton needs you. So get your ass over here."

* * *

It was far too early in the morning when Nick Fury marched towards Clint's room with authority echoing in every heavy step. He hated mornings. And he was almost certain that he'd hate what was to come even more.

He needed coffee, or something stronger.

The second he entered he had Clint's undivided attention. The eyes looking back at him… They were those of the angry boy he met once upon a time. Those of a kid who'd been let down by his whole world. There was also relief, a heartbreaking amount of it. "Any chance you can get me out of here?"

Fury sighed heavily. "From what I've heard you're not even ready to walk without assistance yet. I think you're where you need to be right now."

Clint didn't need to speak to make perfectly clear how much he disagreed. The archer's eyebrows furrowed while the man's gaze sought the space beside and behind the director. Disappointment made the Hawk's shoulders slump and stiffen. "No Coulson, huh? I must've really pissed him off this time."

And there was no longer avoiding what should've been avoided, at least until the archer was stronger and healthier. Fury had two choices. To stick to the cruel but, as he viewed it, necessary lie. Or to test honesty with this new version of Clint. The director made the decision with a heavier heart than he'd anticipated. And hoped that he wasn't making a horrible mistake. "Barton… Coulson's gone."

* * *

As soon as Steve had Clint's room in sight and spotted Fury emerging he knew that something was wrong. And when their eyes met the Captain realized what happened. The truth about Phil Coulson was out.

"Don't go there yet", the one-eyed man advised. And seemed old beyond his years. "He's… processing."

Steve had no intention of letting Clint cope with this all alone. Not when they had to prove to their ailing friend that even now there were people who wanted to be there for him. None of them was alone in the world anymore. Wasn't that what being a team was supposed to be about?

Steve half-expected something to be thrown at him as he entered the room. And a few items had been tossed around earlier. Tubes and wires that'd been torn loose lay on the bed and floor. Somehow, probably with sheer willpower, Clint had made it to his feet, and was currently leaning unsteadily against a wall. The archer wasn't crying, but the look of anguish and crushing guilt on the man's face was even more painful to witness. Especially because the Captain knew those feelings too well.

Steve swallowed. How was he supposed to proceed? "Clint, I'm so…"

"Get me… out of… 're… Please…!" Clint didn't beg, ever. Not even for his life. Every single one of the man's breaths was a horrible, pitiable and wheezing gasp. The agent was hyperventilating. "Out… Gotta get… out."

Steve knew that it was probably a horrible idea. But there was no other choice. Ignoring the voice of reason in his head screaming at him to stop, he marched to the hallway and got a wheelchair. He saw a physical therapist wheeling it in the day before. Now was the perfect time to test it.

The second there was a safe landing platform Clint slumped, completely and utterly. The man's breaths were getting louder and louder, which made Steve hasten his steps. The journey through the long hallway and the elevator-ride which followed seemed to last a lifetime. He could only imagine how long they felt to his friend.

Going to a busy street would've only made things worse, so Steve chose the back-entrance. Which led them to a rather beautiful, park-like area. Some people were there as well, but not enough to overwhelm Clint even further.

Although… It didn't seem like the archer was aware the rest of the world actually existed. The man didn't even seem to notice the ice-cold rain. Clint sucked in several hungry, greedy gulps of air, trying to convince himself that he still could. Then grabbed his head roughly with both hands and pulled at his own hair so hard that it made Steve wince. And screamed, from the bottom of his heart and soul. Over and over again.

Several people passing by looked on with worry, but before Steve could assure them that the situation was under control – which it obviously wasn't – Clint stopped. Quieted. Shut down, almost. And that, was the most terrifying thing of all.

"Captain Rogers!" The furious female voice made it apparent that their escape hadn't gone unnoticed. A very angry, very flushed female nurse rushed towards them. "I'm currently in charge over that man! And I'm not letting you jeopardize his health like this!"

Steve shifted with discomfort. Confrontations with women who weren't actual criminals weren't his area of expertise. Especially when they were this angry. "Ma'am, I won't let any harm come to him. He was suffering from a panic attack and needed air."

While the woman kept screaming at him over his recklessness, Steve wasn't able to pay enough attention to spot another problem approaching…

* * *

Clint couldn't think. Could barely breathe. His head spun and it took a lot of willpower to keep himself from throwing up.

He closed his eyes. Fell asleep. Now… Now he had all these strangers around him. And Coulson was gone.

It wasn't the first time he felt all alone in the world. But this hurt the most. Because Phil was supposed to be different. He wasn't supposed to leave.

Clint was an idiot to trust it when someone made that promise.

The emotional turmoil had his senses on over-drive. Which was why he became hyper-aware of someone watching him. Grief sharpened the glare he turned towards the unwanted arrival.

The expensively-dressed woman with a big, black umbrella seemed to be in her late sixties. There was something familiar in her facial features but nothing honest about her smile. "I see that you're as happy to see me as I am to see you. Always so aggressive… I'll never know what Laura saw in you." She wrinkled her nose, then sighed. "But perhaps this is the last time we're forced to tolerate each other." Her hazel eyes sharpened considerably. "I don't know why you pretend not knowing your own wife and children. But it's the first good thing you do for them. Let my daughter and grandchildren continue their lives without you… and I'll pay you two hundred thousand dollars."

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Say hello to your lovely mother in law, Clint… (groans) THAT, was the LAST thing he needed at the moment. How's he going to react to those news? How much damage has that woman caused (and Fury, too, I suppose)? AND, who did Natasha call?

AND, the most important question… What did you think about the chapter? Any good at all? PLEASE, do let me know! Hearing from you SERIOUSLY makes my day.

Awkay, I'm planning on typing something more before going to bed. SOOOO, until next time! I REALLY hope that I'll see you all there.

Take care!

* * *

 **Carry692** : Welcome aboard! (grins) Awww, I'm thrilled that you enjoyed the first chapter so much! We'll see just what the story to come brings… I REALLY HOPE that you'll enjoy the chapter(s) to come every bit as much.

Heh, I actually thought about bringing in a doc we would've known. But this idea sat better with me, so… (grins)

Colossal thank yous for the review! Until next time.


	3. When the Past and Future Come Knocking

A/N: Phew! Wrapping up this chapter took way longer than I imagined. BUT, here we are! (grins) Oh boy…

BUT, first… LOL! Laura's mother sure isn't making fans. (snickers) (Anyone wanna join an ANTI-fan-club…?) THANK YOU, SO MUCH, for all your reviews, listings and love! It means A LOT that so many of you have decided to take this emotional flight. (HUGS)

Awkay, before I get too sentimental for Natasha… Let's go! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

When the Past and Future Come Knocking

* * *

The world began to spin dangerously around Clint, but he barely noticed. The woman's voice kept echoing painfully in his head. None of what she just said made sense.

Laura… That nurse who called him 'honey' when he first woke up… She was his wife? And… They had kids? He was a dad?

 _How_ could he forget something like _that_?

His own father's voice, thick from too many beers, sneered into his ears. Like the man's ghost was somehow right there beside him. ' _Congratulations, son. You're officially as shitty of a father as I was._ '

The woman's nose wrinkled from disgust. Her words barely registered to him. "Stop looking like a fish out of water. That was a perfectly good deal. For you, and my daughter's family."

She was actually willing to pay him, just to ensure that he'd stay away from his family. What kind of a life had he sucked Laura and the kids into? How miserable had he made them? What was this… older version of him _thinking_? Marrying a civilian and imagining that a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, let alone someone with his history, could have such a life?

And yet… Even though he didn't have a single memory-trace of them as a family… He did have the foggy mental image of Laura's face when she looked at him. Of her eyes shining. It had to be what love looked like.

Yes, it was love. Because nothing else could've possibly caused the kind of agony that appeared to her eyes when he didn't recognize her. He'd seen such pain before.

* * *

/ _Clint would never, ever forget how his mom looked when she saw his father, passed out on the couch. The stench of alcohol was horrible. The expression of sheer anguish slowly seeping to her face was far worse._

 _Clint gulped thickly, hating the way his eyes stung. Especially the one that'd soon have a bruise. Wasn't he supposed to be the strong one? "I'm sorry, mom", he murmured. "I told him to stop, but he got angry…"_

 _His mom shook her head, interrupting him. She wouldn't even look his way. "Just… Just keep playing." She wiped her eyes. "I'll be back in five minutes." She left the room and house as quickly as her feet carried her._

 _She never noticed just how tightly her six-year-old was hugging his only toy, a teddy bear that was already so well-loved it was falling apart. Nor did she notice the tears he couldn't fight back anymore, guilt and disappointment crushing his young heart. His brother Barney noticed both upon returning from school and snorted with disgust. "You're such a pathetic crybaby." The older boy nodded towards their father, who was still unconscious. "You'll be just like him one day."_ /

* * *

Clint gulped laboriously, but it wasn't enough to wash away the memory's bitter aftertaste.

Laura's mother obviously wasn't through with him yet. "Honestly, you're already away from them so much that you could as well leave entirely. The kids are growing up without their father beside them, and my daughter is raising them practically alone. Hiding at some awful farm from all those dangerous people you've brought into their lives. Don't you think they deserve better?"

Those words slashed so deep that Clint couldn't keep it from showing on his face. Aside not dying of alcohol poisoning, his father's only superpower was making everyone around him miserable. No matter how many times Clint swore that he'd do better… Did he turn up the same?

Once more his father's all too familiar, drunken voice sneered into his ear. ' _We Bartons are failures, son. Just embrace it._ '

Clint barely noticed Steve approaching. As though through fog he watched how the soldier and Laura's mother argued briefly, after which the woman lifted her chin, turned sharply and stepped aside. The Captain approached him but didn't dare to touch him, lips moving the whole time. The archer couldn't comprehend a single word. It was a little hard to understand speech when he couldn't seem to breathe.

And then, without a warning, he felt a sharp twinge. Despite his emotional disarray he knew what it was. A needle piercing his skin.

 _What the…?_ Did Steve just drug him? He lifted his head and looked at the man who was Phil's idol, betrayal and confusion in his eyes. He had no time to read the feelings in the Captain's gaze. The world turned black.

* * *

Steve could do little more than watch. At first he was trying to calm down Clint. And then his friend looked at him in such a manner he never, ever wanted to face from an ally. Just before losing consciousness.

Which was when he saw the needle mark, and the nurse he just fought with holding a syringe. Steve's blood boiled. "What did you just…?"

The nurse interrupted him with a shrug. "He was agitated and needed to calm down before he would've hurt himself. And you obviously weren't making any difference. Now get him back to his room so I can report this unfortunate incident."

She obviously had no idea what she just did. How much damage her actions caused. Because, Steve did see the look in Clint's eyes. And he wondered sullenly if the traumatized, still very much recovering archer would ever trust him again.

Apparently fate had decided that the situation wasn't bad enough yet. Because just then Laura dashed out of the building, absolute horror written all over her face. "What…?" Which was when her gaze shifted. Steve hadn't even noticed that the woman who talked to Clint hadn't left yet. Laura's eyes narrowed against the stranger while she took a protective step towards her husband. "Mom, what the hell did you do?"

* * *

Cooper wasn't exactly sure what woke him up. Perhaps it was his grandparents' massive mansion. Every corner of it felt threatening, and nightmares haunted him whenever he tried to sleep. It didn't help at all that he missed his parents terribly.

"Mom?" he murmured in confusion, looking around before he remembered properly what was going on. He swallowed thickly. "Grandma?" No reply. Not that he would've been expecting one. Considering how big the building was, it was highly unlikely that his grandparents were anywhere nearby.

Cooper gathered his courage, then climbed out of the bed and rushed to the doorway as quickly as he could. The hallway waiting for him outside wasn't much better. It was too long and dark, reeked of dust. He took a deep breath and tried desperately to remember which direction he was supposed to go. Then moved, slowly and hesitantly.

He finally found some light when he was on his way downstairs. He even heard his grandfather's voice. "… didn't accept the money?" In a few moments there was a snort. "I see, so that's how he wants to play this game… Well. We've been playing a lot longer. And we'll make sure that Laura finally gets rid of him."

Cooper, who'd been inching closer with each word, frowned. What was his grandfather talking about? Who was his mom supposed to get rid of?

"Oh, she can scream and rage at us for coming to her aid all she likes. You know how children are. But we know what's for the best." The look on his grandfather's face… It chilled Cooper to the bone. As did the words which followed. "He's the worst thing that's ever happened to our daughter. And that was before he suffered brain damage and forgot all about his family…" More words followed but the child caught none of them.

The whole world spun in front of his eyes and it was almost impossible to breathe. Shock, rage, disappointment, betrayal and sheer terror overwhelmed him. His heart pounded, like it was about to fall apart. The words escaped without Cooper realizing that they came from him. "Are you… talking about dad?"

* * *

When Clint woke up he wasn't alone. He tensed up, and didn't relax when his eyes focused enough to distinguish the younger of the two redheads in his… current time version's life. She smiled tentatively. "Hey." Her smile faded when he failed to return it, and a stab of guilt sped through him. "I'm sorry that the nurse had to drug you. It wasn't to harm you."

Clint nodded slowly and looked away, unsure if he could believe her. Having the question everyone's motives… It was exhausting, but he couldn't stop himself.

"I'm Wanda", she went on when he didn't say anything. "I… don't know how much good I can do for you, but… I know what's it like, to be surrounded by people you can't trust. So, if you want to talk… I'm here."

His instincts told him to snap something harsh. To chase her away, as quickly as possible. But for some reason he couldn't bring himself to do that. He looked at her from underneath furrowed eyebrows. "Why are you being nice to me?" People usually weren't nice to him unless they wanted something in return.

Wanda smiled faintly, sadness in her eyes. "Because… You once showed me just what I can be. It's thanks to you I'm here today." She sighed heavily, clearly seeing his disbelief. "You're a good person, Clint. And I'm going to help you believe that."

No, he really wasn't. Nor did he deserve to have someone looking at him the way she did. He wondered how she'd react when she'd realize as much. Feeling heavy and ridiculously old, he turned so that his back was towards her. And wished that he would've had the strength and voice to tell her to go away, to save herself from him while she still could.

* * *

While Wanda did what little she could to help Clint the rest of the gang – a furious Laura included – had gathered to one of the building's many conference rooms. Tony and Laura paced like caged tigers. Steve sat with his shoulders slumped and face buried to his hands. Natasha stood in front of a window like something made of stone, so tense that it had to hurt.

"So, basically…" Steve took a deep breath. "Right now… He doesn't trust that I didn't drug him. Or that Nat isn't an enemy-assassin."

"And I think he's sort of figured out that I'm not 'just Laura'", Laura muttered with bitterness and venom. What her mother did… The damage it caused…

"We'll let him cool off. Clear his head", Tony decided, and nodded at his own words. "And then, when he'd ready… We'll try again. We'll get him through this."

"What if he decides to not let us help?" Natasha voiced the option none of them wanted to think about.

The room was full of heavy, loaded silence until Laura's phone began to ring, making them all jump. She frowned at the caller ID. "Coop? What…?"

The first thing she heard was her son's sobs. " _Mom, get… Get us out of here, please._ " Cooper's tone was nothing short of pleading. " _I wanna get away from here._ "

Right there, in that moment, Laura wanted to strangle her parents almost as much as she wanted to burst into tears of her own.

* * *

In the end Wanda had to leave the room, because no matter how hard she fought she needed her rest. Clint pretended that he was asleep until the door closed softly. When his eyes opened he found himself alone with shadows and the nasty voices in his head.

He needed a run. He needed air. Needed…

He climbed out of the bed, and stumbled to the floor almost instantly. The humiliation… The feeling of uselessness… It took all he had not to scream.

What good was he to anyone like this? To the woman who didn't even dare to tell him that she was his wife? To the children he apparently had? To S.H.I.E.L.D?

He needed someone who understood. Someone he could trust. Someone he actually knew. Before he'd…

He grabbed the wheeled table that'd been placed beside his bed, and watched with satisfaction how it first rolled, then fell down with a lot of noise.

Eventually he'd gathered enough strength to push himself up. With wobbling, uncertain steps he dragged himself to the room's toilet. He wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe he wanted the safety of a room that had a lock.

He needed to shut out this whole, unbearably confusing new world, just for a little while.

He switched on the lights and, barely staying on his own feet, entered. Which happened to be when he made the mistake of looking into the mirror. Instantly the room began to sway as breath stilled sharply into his lungs.

The face he saw… Especially those haunted eyes looking back at him, and that haircut… They didn't belong to him. That wasn't…

But it was. Somehow, impossibly. And he had no idea how to handle the constantly solidifying knowledge that he'd lost over twenty years of his life.

Or perhaps not exactly, because he knew exactly where to start.

* * *

Tony didn't sleep much on the better nights. And he definitely didn't sleep on nights like this. For which he was glad when a computer voice announced that Clint was… in distress.

Tony hurried to his friend's room at a nearly comical speed. And froze as he saw the tackled down table, along with droplets of blood. There wasn't a trace of his friend.

Tony swallowed thickly, his own blood running cold. "Clint? I'd really, really like to know what happened here." He sounded embarrassingly high-pitched and didn't care. There was no reply. "Barton, I swear, if you don't give me some sort of a sign that you're here and conscious…!"

"Did you bring a medical team with you?"

"Yeah", Tony answered immediately and honestly. "But they'll stay out of the room until you feel ready to face them, okay?"

"Okay." Clint sounded tired, and heartbreakingly young. There was a long, heavy moment of silence. "I'm… sorry about the mess."

"It's alright. We all have our off days." Tony wished that he would've managed to keep his tone lighter. Finally able to locate his friend's voice, he began to follow it slowly. "I have to check you over", he explained as patiently as he could. "You know, to see that you haven't screwed up the work of my medical team."

Clint didn't welcome him, or send him away. Taking that as a permission, Tony continued on. The further he got, the more blood he saw. Until he'd reached the other side of the bed.

Clint was trembling so badly that he had no idea how the man managed to sit. The archer's paleness also clearly wasn't healthy. But luckily the worst damage seemed to have been done to the Hawk's knuckles. They were broken and bloodied. A shard of a mirror was still clutched in a tight, painful hold. Suddenly Tony began to have a depressingly clear idea what happened.

Clint swallowed thickly, as though the action hurt. "It's… It's really been over twenty years, huh?"

Tony nodded slowly. "Yeah." He contemplated saying that he was sorry but decided against it. Instead he reached out a hand.

"Don't." Clint gritted his teeth and inhaled, then tried again. "Don't… touch. Not now."

"Sorry." Tony sat down, as close as he dared to. If some blood stained his pants he didn't care.

It was around then he noticed that his friend was staring longingly at something. Lifting his head, he found an air vent on the ceiling. As though reading his mind Clint explained quietly. "I… used to use those. For hiding. When things got… too intense."

Tony could actually imagine a far younger version of his friend. Hiding in a vent. All alone in the world.

Clint's voice, quiet as it was, snatched him back from those thoughts. "I… appreciate this. I do. But… This is just… too much. All these people. Their expectations. Because… I can't be… _your_ Clint. I can't be… enough." The archer pulled his legs to his chest, still refusing to meet his eyes. "I… I need to go somewhere… to a place where I can be just… me. The me I remember. Without anyone… staring at me like I'm a puppy trying to learn a cute new trick. Without people… drugging me, lying to me and… hiding things. Without… hurting someone, all the time." The former assassin wiped his eyes, and every bit about his body language revealed how much he loathed himself for the trace of weakness. "Just… Just a couple of days."

Tony hated the thought of his friend leaving the Tower's medical wing. Hated letting his friend out of his sight. But he could also see that forcing the archer to stay would do far more damage than good. "Fine. On one condition." He gestured towards the other's knuckles. "You'll let someone patch you up. Because that looks nasty."

* * *

Bobbi Morse was sore, exhausted and in a bad mood. She'd just wrapped up a mission that didn't go the way she would've wanted, and had to take a sixteen-hours-long flight home. On top of that she had Phil Coulson, the master of all mother hens, on the phone. "I'm perfectly fine. Yes, I'm bruised, and you'll have to keep me from strangling Huxley the next time I see him. But all I need is a good night's sleep." They both knew that sleep was the last thing she wanted.

" _Were you cleared by a medic?_ "

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I was." She wasn't suicidal, and she wasn't a rookie-agent who stupidly ignored potentially threatening injuries. "You wound me."

" _Sorry._ " Phil sounded sheepish. And tired. Apparently this was one of those long nights when the ghosts inside his head wouldn't allow him a moment's rest. " _I just…_ " He trailed off.

And she understood. "I know." There was a knock. Maybe it was the pizza she ordered. "Hang on."

Bobbi peered through the door eye. And froze at the sight she encountered. "I've… gotta go." She hung up without any further explanation or clarification.

For a long while she was tempted to pretend that the person on the other side of the door didn't exist. Until there was a second knock. Followed by a third, fourth, fifth…

Bobbi gritted her teeth, swore under her breath in every language she knew, and opened.

Clint seemed even worse than she felt. If she hadn't known better she would've thought that there were tears in his eyes. "I, ah… know that it's late, but… I… didn't know where else to go." His jawline clenched. "Who else to trust." With those words he collapsed to her arms, which reminded her eerily of the first time they met.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Oooooh boy… This should be… interesting…

Poor, poor Clint! Well, everyone, really. WHAT will happen next? How many more lies and secrets can he stand?

AND, the most important question of all… Was that any good? PLEASE, do leave a note! I LOVE hearing form you.

Okay, I REALLY need some sleep. Hopefully I'll see you all next time!

Take care!

* * *

 **Carry692** : Such a mess…! And Laura's mother is NOT making it any better. (GROANS) We'll see just what comes next… Poor, poor Clint!

Massive thank yous for the review! Until next time.


	4. The Ties That Bind

A/N: PHEW! Christmas (and being away from my laptop) messed up my planned updating schedules a little. (winces) BUT, now I'm back! Hooray?

FIRST, THOUGH…! THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for your absolutely amazing reviews, love and support! You have NO IDEA how much they mean to me. (HUGS)

Awkay, because it's REEEEEALLY late already… Let's go! I REALLY hope that this turns out worth the wait.

* * *

The Ties That Bind

* * *

Clint didn't start hesitating until he was already in the apartment. Mainly because he almost certainly blacked out for a few moments. Leaning a little too heavily on Bobbi to avoid stumbling down ungracefully, he licked his lips. "I… didn't interrupted anything, right?"

Bobbi rolled her eyes and pointed towards the bruising on her face. "Do I look I'm in the middle of a hot date?" She nodded towards the couch. "Let's get you there before you fall down again."

Each step was a war. And it wasn't lost on Bobbi how Clint seemed to tremble more with every passing second. Staying upright and marching on seemed to take absolutely all he had. By the time he finally slumped down his face had a taken a rather interesting, far from healthy shade of gray. He was panting like someone fresh out of a marathon.

It didn't exactly take S.H.I.E.L.D training to figure out that something was _WRONG_.

Bobbi wanted to demand answers. But she knew, all too well, that she'd need to let Clint pick the pace. There were two sides to Hawkeye – he could be incredibly endearing, and horribly infuriating. The way he shut down like a clam in the face of emotional turmoil was a fine example of the latter. It was also one of the many reasons why…

Clint's barely audible voice ripped her sharply from her thoughts. "You dyed your hair." Which was, quite possibly, the most politically correct way to express 'You've aged'.

Bobbi snorted with genuine amusement. "Well, when I hit my thirties I decided that the goth chick look wasn't working for me anymore." She arched an eyebrow. "We haven't seen each other in… what, ten years or something?" Missions and life always got in the way. "And that's your opening line?"

Clint snorted a laugh. Which sounded like half-a-sob. He rubbed his face roughly with both hands, like someone trying to wake up. Then began to struggle to get back to his feet. "Sorry I… Just… Sorry. I shouldn't have come…"

Bobbi groaned. Those mentioned ten years had made her forget how cautiously she needed to advance with a wounded, hurting Clint Barton. "You're not going anywhere when you look feeble enough to get your ass kicked by a five-year-old. If something happened to you, it'd be on me." Worry colored her voice, but she didn't mind. She wasn't a soulless monster, unlike some people claimed. And while a lot of time had passed from when they knew each other, and while not all of the time they knew each other was pleasant, she still cared. Because even if Clint wasn't necessarily good for her, _back then_ , he was a good person. Just a bit of an idiot on occasion, like now. Bobbi frowned, searching those eyes that hadn't met hers in ages. "What's going on?"

Clint swallowed thickly. That something in his eyes grew to complete, utter panic. He looked like a wild animal that realized there was no escaping from a trap. "I can't… I can't remember, Bobbi."

She frowned, trying to figure this whole thing out. She needed a few more hints. "Remember what?"

True, Clint had… changed, too. But right there, in that moment… The twenty-something-year-old boy she used to know sat beside her. Looked at her with eyes that pleaded for help and radiated hurt. "The last… what, twenty fucking years of my life, apparently."

Well, it wasn't like Bobbi wanted to get any actual sleep that night, anyway.

* * *

Elsewhere in the city Laura was also having a sleepless night. After the stunt her parents pulled it was her unfortunate duty to explain the situation to her terrified, confused children. They took the news about as well as could be expected.

Cooper… locked up. Completely and utterly. To a point where the boy wouldn't say a word. Laura knew, on a level of reason, that her son just needed time to process everything. Which didn't make witnessing his obvious distress any easier.

Lila was far more vocal. She asked a lot of questions, and Laura wished that she had answers to more of them than she did. The little girl also cried, which shattered her mommy's heart. For months they all feared that they'd lose Clint altogether. And now that he was awake, now that things were supposed to be getting better… _This_ happened.

"Mommy?" Lila whispered. It was already midnight and far past the girl's bedtime, but there was no way the child would've been able to sleep. Red and puffy eyes sought the comforting ones of the parent. "Daddy will remember, right? Eventually? I mean…" The girl swallowed thickly and clung to her mommy's clothes. "He can't just… just forget about us, forever."

Laura kissed her daughter's hair, mainly because she didn't want to see her facial expression at that very moment. "I… don't know", she admitted. And hated it. She pulled the little girl closer when the child started to cry again. "I know that he wants to, so much that it makes his heart hurt. We just have to give him time. And whatever happens… We'll help him. We're still a family." No matter how messed up things were, no matter how difficult it was to be together.

"Because families stick together."

Laura nodded, blinking back tears. She kissed her daughter's hair again, and wondered how her child managed to be more mature than her grandparents. "That's right, sweetheart."

Lila sniffled and buried her face to her chest. It took some time before the whispered words came. "I miss daddy a lot."

Laura closed her eyes and wished that she didn't have to stay so strong. The longing clawed at her heart mercilessly. "I know. I miss him, too." More than any words could say.

* * *

Clint talked until he was hoarse. Told Bobbi everything he understood about his current… predicament. Then he slept. And slept. He woke up dizzy, with a headache and even more confused than before. But at least some of the weight that crashed onto his shoulders when he found out how many people he let down was gone. At least here he wasn't disappointing everyone. Still, he knew that running away indefinitely wasn't any sort of a solution. He needed to think. He had to start coping.

Sink or swim, wasn't that what his dad taught him?

"Hey, sleepy head." Bobbi's voice startled him out of his thoughts. She darted a look towards him while flopping to the sofa with a mug of coffee. He wondered if it was spiked in the manner she used to spike her coffee. "You slept for…" She checked the time. "… fifteen hours. You've gotta be hungry."

He wasn't, really. But shrugged. At least chewing down something might keep his mind occupied for a while. It'd probably help with the headache, too.

Functioning on autopilot, he made a slice of toast. He felt a hint of amusement at how similar to 'back then' her fridge looked. Apparently Bobbi still couldn't cook to save her life, if the couple of remains of charred attempts and few ingredients were anything to go by.

He must've taken at least ten bites of the toast before he froze, tasting it.

"You do pickles, now?" Bobbi's voice startled him. She shrugged at the questioning look on his face. "It's been half an hour, Barton. I was starting to worry that you choked on the toast or something."

Clint… had no idea that such a long time passed. Nor did he quite know how he ended up sitting on the floor. Well. Perhaps leaving the Tower's medical wing so soon after waking up wasn't one of his smartest ideas. Some things never change, it seemed – he was still full of absolutely horrible ideas.

Bobbi snorted. "You're telling me that? I was one of your bad ideas." He hadn't realized that he spoke out loud before her comment.

Oh, _that_ he remembered. They were very young and very stupid when they first met. Brats. Fire burned between them brightly and blazingly, only to die out quickly as they grew up. _They_ were a mistake, for sure, but not such that should be looked back on with regret. With how many regrettable things Clint had done in his life, he refused to add something that made him genuinely happy for a while to that list.

The sound of fingers snapping brought him out of those thoughts. There was a frown he knew far too well on Bobbi's face. "You just zoned out on me. And in case your thick skull isn't willing to accept as much, that's not exactly a good thing."

Clint shrugged, feeling uncomfortably lot like he was being examined with a microscope. "Sorry. Just… thinking."

Bobbi's eyebrow twitched. She clearly wanted to start yelling and growling but decided to have mercy on him. "For fifteen minutes?" She gritted her teeth so hard that it made a sound. "You should be in bedrest, you moron. Or even better, in a hospital. What the hell are you doing here?" To most that might've sounded harsh, but he knew her well enough to catch the undertones.

Clint shrugged. It didn't matter how old he actually was now, under her intense glare he felt every bit like the kid he remembered himself as. "Just… needed something I remember." _Someone I remember._

Bobbi groaned and shook her head. "See? This is why we never worked out. You keep making me want to hug you and punch you in the face at the same time." She sighed, coming to a decision. "C'mon, let's get you to bed."

"Couch", Clint insisted with as much conviction as he could muster, because there was no way he'd kick Bobbi out of her own bed.

Bobbi clearly wanted to protest, but rolled her eyes instead. "Fine, couch. At least it's better than the floor."

Clint didn't quite remember how he made it to the couch. Just that he needed far more support than he would've liked. In seconds he was fast asleep.

And he dreamt. Of Laura. Of them exchanging kisses in the dark, both drowsy and sated. Of them dancing, arms wrapped around each other and the rest of the world somewhere far away. He also dreamt of a boy who seemed far too solemn. Of a little girl who shone like the sun as she ran towards him. (' _Daddy!_ ') Of a baby who yawned and opened his eyes, looking at him with a heartbreaking amount of trust. He woke up with tears in his eyes, and felt like his whole world had been torn away from him.

* * *

Bobbi wasn't entirely sure what roused her. Her eyebrows furrowed before she yawned and crawled reluctantly out of the comfort of her bed. It wasn't a surprise that Clint wasn't on the couch. Nor was it the first time she saw the expression he wore as he sat on the floor, staring through the window towards the starlit sky. "Bad dreams?"

Clint's jawline tightened. The look on his face suggested that his mind was somewhere very far away. "Not… exactly. I'm just… trying to wrap my head around… everything." He frowned, obviously deep in thought. "Before… all this… I had just Coulson. And you. When I woke up… There were so many people around me. People who care." He shook his head. "Now I have a wife. And kids." He wiped his eyes so swiftly that she nearly missed it. "I know that I'm a shitty dad. You know how crappy I am at being a husband. Horrible enough to make my in-laws willing to pay to get me away from my family. But… I think I was happy. Happier than ever. And now…" He knocked on his temple with a fist so hard that it made her want to wince. "… now it's just… gone. All gone." This time he wasn't able to hide the tears shimmering in his eyes. "And apparently Coulson's gone, too." He gritted his teeth. "The whole world has changed, and… I'm still… there. Or… My head is." He seemed frustrated, like he couldn't quite express what he wanted.

Bobbi… felt several all-consuming urges at the same time. She wanted to strangle Fury with her own two hands for the lie about Phil. She wanted to embrace the lost and heartbroken man in front of her, which was bizarre enough to make her shiver. More than anything she wanted to promise him that soon he'd regain his memories. That soon everything would work out, he'd just need to have faith and stay strong. But neither of them had ever been much for sugarcoating. "You're gonna listen to me now, Barton. Got that?" As much as she wanted to tell him the truth about Phil, she could see that he had far too much to deal with already. "We were married for… what, eight months and a few days, when we were still in our teens and morons. It didn't fall apart because you were a bad husband. It fell apart because we clicked well as friends but terribly as lovers. I don't think we ever saw the same things in our future." She tried to offer him a smile, but he wasn't looking towards her. "I always saw you as a father, no matter how ridiculous and horrifying you found that idea. And it terrified me, because I don't think I'll ever want… that for myself." She took a deep breath, looking back on days she hadn't thought about in a very long time. "Yeah, it was pretty horrible at times. We fought, a lot. But it wasn't all bad. I just wasn't the one you were looking for." She sighed, wishing that he would've met her eyes to ensure that he believed her. "But I think you found the one you were looking for. So fight for her." She gave him a moment. "You said it yourself. You have a lot of people willing to support you. Stop running away from those who care about you."

Clint swallowed thickly, vacant eyes staring at something only he could see. "They haven't known… this version of me. They want me to remember. What if I… can't? What if they're stuck with…" He gestured towards himself, his nose wrinkling. "… this?"

"You're still you, deep down", Bobbi pointed out. "Whatever happens next… You'll all figure it out. They won't give up on you, so I'm not letting you give up on them."

Finally Clint looked towards her. There was a heartwarming, innocent look of pure shock in his eyes. "Holy shit… We're adults now, aren't we?"

Bobbi wanted to laugh and wince. So she did both. "I know. It sucks, doesn't it?"

* * *

It was early in the morning when Tony's phone rang but the billionaire was awake. It hadn't been exactly easy to sleep lately. Despite the text-message updates from Bobbi he couldn't help being… concerned. He didn't do worrying, of course, but… He just almost lost one of his best friends, and the said friend still wasn't alright. So, some concern was allowed.

Tony picked up embarrassingly quickly when he noticed the caller ID. "Hey." That had to be the worst forced cheery tone he'd ever used. "How's Feathers?"

" _Feathers?_ " Clint sounded unimpressed. The archer then took a deep breath. " _Look, I've… done some thinking. And… It's time to come back. To try and sort out this whole mess. I mean, if…_ "

"Hey!" Tony hoped that he didn't sound insulted. "You can always come back. No matter what." It was the easiest pledge he'd ever made. "What friends are for."

There was a suspicious moment of silence. Then an unidentifiable sound. " _Look, Stark…_ "

"Let's just… not turn this into a chick-flick moment, okay?"

Minutes later Tony headed to where Laura, Wanda and Steve were watching over the Barton kids. Once he could be sure the kids wouldn't notice, he mouthed to the adults staring at him demandingly. ' _He's coming back._ '

Steve's whole being slumped from relief. Wanda smiled radiantly. And the look that appeared to Laura's face… It could've rivaled the sun itself.

Things would be far from easy, but at that very moment it felt like everything would work out.

* * *

It was one of the most terrifying things Clint had ever experienced in his life. Or well, in the part of his life he actually remembered. He stood, as much as it could be called standing with both Tony and Bobbi supporting him, in front of the Tower. And wondered if he was completely out of his mind or if he'd been tossed to some alternative reality.

"Hey." Tony aimed for a light tone but didn't quite manage it. The billionaire nudged at him. "You're not gonna pass out on me, are you?"

"Nah. Just…" Clint blinked twice. "… thinking."

"You don't do thinking", Tony and Bobbi pointed out as one.

Clint rolled his eyes. He wasn't quite able to disguise the start of a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "Great… You're already ganging up on me." If he was fully honest it was sort of heartwarming, in some bittersweet way, to see how the life he remembered and the life he couldn't remember began to blend together. To see how willing the people from his future were to accept everything and everyone from his past. The man he grew up to be must've done something right to find friends like these.

Together, his two escorts giving him the time he needed, they entered and began to make their way onwards. A long elevator-ride later Clint faced the biggest shock he'd had since waking up. For a long time he wondered if he was dreaming again.

As soon as the elevator's doors opened he saw the far too serious boy he dreamt of. Along with the little girl. For a long, stilled moment the three of them stared at each other. Then, faster than Clint could comprehend what was happening, the kids were running. The force with which they slammed at him would've tackled him down even if he wasn't still infuriatingly feeble from recovery. They embraced him with all their might, as though fearing that he'd fade away if they didn't hold on tightly enough. It felt incredibly good. And filled him with guilt. What he was putting these kids through…!

"Daddy!" The girl squeezed hard enough to make it hurt. "You came back! I told Coop you'd come back!"

The boy, Coop apparently, just held him. Unable to produce a sound. The child's frame shook gently from silent sobs.

To them it didn't seem to matter that he'd shown no sign of having recognized them. They just wanted their dad, no matter how unwell and confused he was. They trusted him to be the parent they needed. At first Clint froze. Until slowly and ridiculously cautiously – as though fearing that he'd cause them even more pain – he wrapped his arms around them. And prayed to whatever deity might be listening that he'd somehow be enough. Even if he had absolutely no idea what to do.

Clint was so emotionally preoccupied that he barely even noticed how Laura rushed to the scene, carrying a baby. There was a mortified expression on her face. "Hey, you two, what did I tell you about running off…!" Her eyes spotted Bobbi, and both women tensed up.

It was impossible to estimate how long the uncomfortable silence lingered until Tony cleared his throat. "So, ah… Why am I getting the feeling that you two know each other?"

Laura nodded slowly. "Yeah… We do." She seemed dazed, among a lot of other things. "Bobbi's my sister."

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Yup. That's right. Clint's succeeded in being married to sisters! Only Clint Barton… (chuckles and shakes head) OH, the drama…! HOW, will things continue from here? What happened between the sisters? Will their parents cause even more trouble? AND, of course… Will Clint regain his memories?

Then, to the most important question of all… Was that any good, at all? PLEASE, do let me know!

Awkay, I need to head to bed. (chuckles) Until next time, folks! I REALLY hope that you'll all join in for that one.

TAKE CARE, AND HAVE A HAPPY NEW YEAR!

* * *

 **Carry692** : Me too! (hisses) Let's hope that they'll just fade away, before they cause even more trouble.

Heh, we'll see just what comes out of this. One thing's for sure. There'll be DRAMA. (winces)

Colossal thank yous for the review! Until next time.


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